


Saturday in Vancouver

by alley_oops, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Alfonso Herrera and Christos Vasilopoulos [7]
Category: Actor RPF, Banshee (TV) RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), Greek Actor RPF, Mexican Actor RPF, Sense8 (TV) RPF, The Exorcist (TV) RPF
Genre: BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-10-14 16:25:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17511965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alley_oops/pseuds/alley_oops, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Alfonso Herrera/Christos Vasilopoulos storyline in the BDSM RPS RPGCitadel.





	Saturday in Vancouver

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Alfonso Herrera/Christos Vasilopoulos storyline in the BDSM RPS RPG [Citadel](http://citadel.dreamwidth.org/read).

Studying the map on the display in front of them at the edge of the park, Alfonso turns a wide easy smile on Christos. "Big walk or smaller one?"

"We've got the day. Let's go for the big walk," Christos answers, looking over the map. Vancouver is beautiful and he's glad he came, but it's a bonus that Alfonso is interested in actually going out with him to see some of the city. "It looks like we'll have a choice of places for lunch."

Alfonso nods. "And a lot of them are right on the water." He slips his sunglasses on and gives Christos another beaming smile. "What's your favourite food?"

"Mexican," Christos answers without thinking. "Anything Mexican." God, that smile is going to be the death of him. He chuckles as he realizes what he said, and slips his own shades on. "You?"

Alfonso laughs. "Thai, although I also like Indian food, and Italian," he says. "I'm very easy to please food-wise. It probably comes from not cooking myself."

"Have you visited any of those places?" Christos asks as they set out on the trail. "I've been to Thailand, but I was working, so I wouldn't count it as a visit. Italy, though, I've been there many times. The food is amazing."

"India, yes. Italy for a quick trip," Alfonso says with a smile. "Not Thailand but I'd like to go. I'd also like to spend more time in Italy or just travelling, period. I tend to overschedule all my time off, fill it with projects."

"Do you think you'll ever reach a point where you feel like you're successful enough to take a break?" Not that Christos does much of that himself.

"I'm not sure it's a question of success," Alfonso says after turning the question over in his mind for a long moment. "It's more like being worried about missing out on an opportunity and maybe even a fear of not doing anything." He laughs, shaking his head at himself. "I really haven't stopped working since I was 19. It's a hard habit to break." And of course he's made certain there was no one to break it for.

"I'm overdue for a holiday as well. It's nice to get away like this for the weekend." Christos eyes Alfonso as they walk, and dares to suggest, "Perhaps next time you'll come to visit me."

 _Next time._ Alfonso smiles at that. Christos has barely arrived and already he wants to see him again. "I could do that," he says softly, nodding, wondering what happens when he's in Mexico this spring, on stage, unable to get away or take a break. His mind shying away from even thinking of the future beyond a couple of weeks.

Inside, Christos is doing a victory dance at even that small concession. He presses his smile out straight. "Do you think you'll be an actor for the rest of your life? Retire after distinguished decades?"

"I hope so." Alfonso shrugs. "I don't know what else I'd do and I do love acting. What about you?" he asks, genuinely interested. "Will you keep doing what you do?"

"I... I don't know. That's something I've been asking myself about a lot recently. My job has changed a lot over this past year. In good ways, I mean — it's not as physical as it used to be, and I'm not quite as fast as I used to be," Christos answers with a wry chuckle. "I don't know what I would do if I could start all over."

"You could come work for me," Alfonso says with a grin, obviously teasing. "Be my personal chef."

"Hmm." Christos pretends to seriously consider the idea. "I don't know. You seem like you'd be a very demanding boss. I might worry about not pleasing you."

"Keep me well-fed and well-fucked and I'll be the happiest man in the world," Alfonso says, the words out of his mouth before he can think to censor them. Fuck. He looks away, suddenly uncomfortable.

"I'm not going to sneak up and collar you, I promise," Christos says, teasing lightly. "But feeding you and fucking you, I want to keep on with that." He's not blind. It's obvious how jumpy Alfonso gets at the smallest implication of commitment.

"I'm sorry," Alfonso says quietly, feeling rather stupid.

That apology doesn't sit right with Christos. He glances around then stops, reaching for Alfonso. They're alone on this section of the trail, so he isn't shy about cupping Alfonso's cheek and kissing him softly.

"What was that for?" Alfonso asks, the kiss bringing a smile back to his face.

"Just that. To see if I could get you to smile again. I'm glad it worked," Christos says with a self-deprecating grin, "because I didn't have any other ideas."

Alfonso laughs. "Thank you," he murmurs, smiling, leaning in a little. "Sometimes I need someone to nudge me out of my own head."

"I'll take any excuse to kiss you, so we're well-matched," Christos replies, daring.

Well-matched. The words should cause some panic again but they don't and Alfonso smiles. "We never really talked about it," he says. "Are you out?"

"Yeah. I mean, it doesn't generally come up for me, but the people who are in my life, they all know," Christos answers. "I suppose, is it important for your career that everyone thinks you're straight?" He's just assuming, but Alfonso strikes him as a very private person.

"Not really," Alfonso says. "I'm not a big enough star here for it to matter, but my family prefers me not to be open and in Mexico, it's a different story, although they've been very accepting of my role in Sense8. _Plus_ ," he gives a soft laugh, "I actually do sleep with women, so there's this whole thing about how they think I could simply choose not to be with men."

"You could." Christos raises an eyebrow. "I'm glad you don't. Choose not to, I mean," he clarifies with a chuckle. "I was with a girl once. I was fifteen. All my friends were pressuring me to hook up with her. Probably her friends were doing the same. After that, I was dry for two years, until I got up the nerve to sneak downtown to the gay club scene."

Alfonso nods. "I like being with women," he says, pulling a black baseball cap from his back pocket and pulling it down low over his brow, "but it's not something I ever get a craving for, not until I see a particular woman."

It's an interesting turn of phrase, prompting Christos to ask, "And? Do you crave cock?"

"Yes," Alfonso confesses, his cheeks heating. "Most of my fantasies involve men. I rarely fantasize about women I don't know or haven't seen in person and I'm not really interested in watching straight porn. Unless again, it's live." He shrugs. It's the way he's wired and he's long given up trying to figure it out.

"Tell me one," Christos says, eyeing the flush on Alfonso's cheeks. It could be just from the exertion, but he doesn't think so. "Tell me about one of your fantasies."

"You first," Alfonso says with a small smile.

Christos's lips curve in appreciation of how deftly Alfonso sidesteps the question. "Let's see. A man on his knees, wrists bound behind him. His skin is hot from my flogger. He's helpless, but so willing, waiting for his chance to beg me to take him."

"Mm. That's a good one," Alfonso says, nodding, a slight shiver running through him despite the warmth of the day.

Casually Christos lets his fingers brush against the back of Alfonso's hand. "Now, you," he prompts, his heart beating harder in anticipation.

With a hard swallow and a quick glance around them, making sure traffic's still light and no one's paying them any attention, Alfonso takes Christos's hand, linking their fingers together. Waiting with bated breath for the other man's reaction.

Christos beams, surprised by the spontaneous affection. Pleased as hell. He grins and squeezes the grip for an instant.

"That's one of them," Alfonso says quietly, nudging Christos's shoulder with his own. "But a more porn-y one would be something along the lines of con non-con. Coming home and unlocking my door only to be ambushed, pushed inside, gagged and taken."

That makes Christos's breath stutter, and lust kicks him hard in the gut. "How would you know you were safe?"

"Do you mean that it was planned or if I needed to safeword?" Alfonso asks, so very aware of the weight of Christos's hand in his. He's never held hands in public with a lover when it wasn't for a role.

"That it was planned. You don't worry about believing you were in true danger, even for a moment?" Christos asks, ignoring the roil of his own emotions. "Or is that part of the lure?"

"No," Alfonso shakes his head. "I wouldn't want to think it was really happening. So I guess a word or a phrase, arranged beforehand. Something that would let me know."

Christos is relieved to hear that. Truly consensual non-con is something he has no problem with. "Your fantasy is hot," he says, stroking his thumb across the back of Alfonso's hand.

"So's yours," Alfonso says, suddenly stopping to point out a bald eagle nest, one of five in the park. "I don't see the birds though."

Tilting his head back, Christos shades his eyes. "No... I didn't know the nests were so big. The birds must be even bigger than I realized," he guesses. The conifers sway overhead in the breeze, and a serene smile settles on his face.

"The females can have wingspans of almost eight feet," Alfonso tells him, having looked it up himself the first time he saw one. But anything else he was going to say (about eagles, anyway) falls away when he sees that smile. "You look happy."

"On this beautiful day, I'm here with you. I could only be happy," Christos murmurs. Because it's true: the rest of the world, with its problems and ugliness, seems so far removed. "Here I am in paradise with a gorgeous and fascinating man."

Alfonso doesn't even think twice. Still holding Christos's hand, he leans up and kisses him on the mouth.

Christos responds immediately, wrapping his arm around Alfonso. His thoughts echo Alfonso's earlier words - _What was that for?_ \- but he's not about to break the kiss to ask. He pours himself into the kiss, his heart racing.

Pulling back finally with a smile, Alfonso's grateful for his hat and shades, his cheeks hot, the rest of his body humming. "We're not making much progress," he says softly, nodding at the path they're on.

"Were we going somewhere?" Christos asks, his grin a touch giddy. He shakes his head. "We'll get there at our own pace," he says, offering his hand once more.

Alfonso links their fingers and gives Christos's hand a squeeze. "Tell me more about your childhood," he says. "How you grew up..."

"My parents separated when I was young. My older brothers and I were split between our parents. Then my mom died, and we all lived with my father," Christos answers, thankful that the beginning of his story is easy enough to be truthful about. "My father was very strict, and very traditional. I was happy to leave his house, but I was close with my grandfather. After he passed, though, there was nothing to keep me in Livadia. I lied about my age and joined the Marines, and never went back."

"And how did you end up here? In the States?" Alfonso asks, amazed again that so much of their very early story is similar. The separation, the splitting of siblings. Fathers both so strict and traditional.

"After the Marines, I got into private security. A lot of ex-soldiers do. I was a bodyguard for a lot of years." Christos holds a branch out of the way of their path, and points out a gigantic spiderweb stretched between tree trunks. "I met my boss, who took me into his business." That's a lot of years quickly glossed over. "And now I'm starting to do more of the computer stuff, less actual hands-on security. He married a Canadian," he says, glancing at Alfonso to explain, "my boss, I mean. So now we're based in this part of the world."

"And you work for both of them?" Alfonso asks.

"Right. Technically," Christos answers with a grin. "Stephen doesn't need me as much anymore, so I'm more involved in the business side of things. I really don't have any roots," he murmurs, slowly coming to a realization he's been avoiding for years. "Just work, and a couple friends."

"That sounds lonely," Alfonso observes, reflecting that since Sense8 ended, it's been much the same for him.

"I suppose it is. I hadn't really thought about it that way before... before." Christos unscrews the cap of his water bottle and takes a drink. "Your turn. When did you realize you could sing?"

Alfonso laughs. "I always sang with my family but professionally, that was this telenovela, Clase 406. I would play guitar in between scenes and we'd goof around and sing together, and then someone came up with the idea we should have a band." He shrugs. "Next thing I knew we were putting out albums, touring... but it was never very serious for me. I never thought I'd be a singer as a lifelong career."

"That's a career a lot of people dream of, fantasize about," Christos, finding it interesting how easily Alfonso shrugs it off. "When did you realize you like men, too?"

"In school, when I was around ten or eleven," Alfonso says, thinking about his time at Edron. "I found myself way too interested in looking at the other boys in the showers after gym. Wanting to touch them."

Christos's grin is slow and appreciative. "And when did you finally touch them?"

"When I was fourteen," Alfonso says, biting back a smile. "My best friend."

"Tell me more. Details, man," Christos urges with a laugh, studying Alfonso's profile as it's limned in sunlight. "Clothes on, clothes off? Were your parents home? Did it happen again?"

"My house, my dad away, clothes on, zippers undone, watching some racy soft core porn thing on television," Alfonso says with a sigh and a laugh, remembering, "and yes, it happened again. Several times. But only jerking each other off."

"Mmm, that sounds very hot. I can almost picture you." Still smiling, Christos thinks back. "I was 17, like I said. He was... 20-something, I thought. Maybe older. I remember being so amazed that he went to his knees for me." He winks at Alfonso. "It was the beginning of a long and illustrious history."

"With him or in general?" Alfonso teases.

"In general... Also with him. I saw him a few more times, always at the club." Christos tilts his head back and squints up at the sun. "I'm getting hungry. Shall we stop for a snack?"

"Sure. There's a little cafe down around the corner," Alfonso says, gesturing in that direction.

They choose a table with a fine view of the trail they've been covering, and looking ahead to a looming lighthouse. "I bet they have good ghost stories about this place," Christos murmurs. "Sailors lost at sea, grieving wives." The waves crash against the rocky shore beyond.

"Deadman's Island," Alfonso makes a vague gesture back the way they'd come, "was used for small-pox victims. It was also the city's first cemetery and apparently no one has any idea how many bodies were buried there."

"That's creepy. I wonder if they all had blessings." Christos's gaze goes distant for a moment, Alfonso's words calling up vivid images. Lonely ones. He shivers in the mid-day sunshine.

"I don't know," Alfonso says, pausing while the waitress delivers menus and takes their drink order. "I've read a bit about the city and its past since I've been here but I haven't delved very deeply. It's a nice place to live though. I like Canada."

"You've spent a lot of time here over the past few years," Christos says, folding his arms before him on the table. Mentally tracing the lines of Alfonso's face. "Do you still consider Mexico your home?"

"I don't know that I still consider it my home," Alfonso admits slowly. "But I'm very proud to be Mexican and I like doing projects there whenever I can."

Christos nods. "I'd like to see it with you some time. The way you see it." He thanks the server who delivers their drinks and waits till they're alone before speaking again. "I'm sorry if I'm talking out of turn. I'm not usually this... this forward in relationships. I usually don't have them at all."

"You're not talking out of turn," Alfonso says, although there's definitely some anxiety there, bubbling under the surface. "I'd like to show it to you. The parts away from my family," he adds with a laugh.

"Agreed," Christos says, chuckling. "And I wouldn't show you my father's Athens. _My_ Athens, though, that's a different story. It's full of lights and music. And very fit men."

Alfonso grins at that. "Maybe you could come to Mexico while I'm doing Dead Poets and we could go to Greece when I'm done?" he ventures, tamping down hard on his nerves. After all, Christos doesn't have to say yes and they're just barely into a first weekend together. It's like day-dreaming in a way, most of it unlikely to ever actually happen.

"That sounds amazing," Christos answers, floored by the invitation. Trusting that he covers for it well, but... no. Probably not. He probably looks just as shocked as he feels, his heart racing as he takes a sip of his drink.

"You don't have to if you're not interested," Alfonso says quickly. "It's okay. I know we're just throwing things out there."

"I am very interested," Christos assures him, just as swiftly. "I'd love to." Love, ha. He's starting to think that he's falling in love with Alfonso, and he's not entirely comfortable with the notion. Not the least of why is because he's worried what Alfonso might think of that, god.

"Okay, but first I'll come see you in L.A.," Alfonso says with a smile, trying not to feel like he's fourteen all over again.

"All right, it's a deal. L.A. can be a lot of fun. Actually, you might know the city better than I do. I mostly stick to the canyons in my time off." Christos can feel that he's grinning like a fool, but he just can't seem to stop. Alfonso wants to visit him.

"Hiking?" Alfonso asks, sitting back as their meal arrives.

"Mostly, yeah. There are some spots where you get incredible sunsets just over the hills." Christos picks up his fork, but as hungry as he was, he just pushes his food around the plate for a few moments. "And then there's the rock-climbing. Did you ever go?"

"A bit of hiking but not rock climbing, and not much. We should go when I visit," Alfonso says, watching Christos with his food, his hands, remembering the feel of them on him. Ay Dios. "Cities are great but I like the outdoors."

"Yeah. Give me the open air anytime. Especially in a storm," Christos adds with a grin. "I love a violent storm on the beach. There's nothing like it."

"On the beach though, right?" Alfonso says with a laugh. "Not in the water."

"Right," Christos agrees, his eyes sparkling. "In the water is better when it's calm. Have you ever had sex in the waves?"

"Fake sex, yes," Alfonso nods, smiling. "For Sense8, but never in reality. You?" He's assuming so but you never know.

"I really have to watch that show," Christos says with a laugh. "In reality, the power of the water, the rhythm of the waves... You have to try it."

Alfonso grins. "Take me somewhere we don't have to worry about anyone catching us and I will," he says, taking a bite of his burger, well-earned after how hard he's been working out recently.

Christos grins - it might just be a smirk - watching him for a moment. Banked lust rushing through his blood. "I'll move that to the top of my list of fantasies," he promises, picking up his fork.

"There's a list?" Alfonso raises an eyebrow. "Just for me or in general?"

Christos swallows a mouthful of beer, setting the bottle precisely back in its ring on the coaster before he answers. "You star in all my fantasies these days."

Those words. They sound like something out of a telenovela. But Alfonso's fairly sure Christos means them. Still, he can't help but say, "Really? What else is on the list?"

"What I talked about before: you, on your knees, bound, hurt. Wanting me," Christos says with a shrug -- like it's casual, like it's not the most important thing in his world at this moment. "That's definitely you, starring in that movie." He pauses, hesitant to say more.

"Go on," Alfonso says with a nod, staring at Christos, spell-bound, his body reacting despite their location.

Christos eyes him, a little smile playing on his lips. "I don't want to scare you off," he says softly, his meal forgotten.

"You won't," Alfonso promises, even as he wonders whether he's fooling himself.

There are doubts on that score... Christos plays his tongue over his top lip, and leaps. "I want you to be mine. Body and soul. To be one with me." He can _feel_ his heart stop.

Alfonso can't help it. His mind panics immediately. He'd thought Christos was going to say he wanted to spank him or fist him or... anything but that. Those words.

Christos studies him in silence for a moment, then nods. Yeah, he knew. He knew he was treading in deep waters. "I apologize," he says softly, his heart sinking. "I said I wouldn't pressure you, and... Forget it, if you can." He picks up his fork and takes a bite of his food, though he can't taste it.

Alfonso follows suit, or at least tries to, moving his food around his plate. "I'm sorry," he says finally, quietly. "I can't help how I react but I don't want you to not say it if that's how you feel. I don't want you feeling like you need to censor yourself with me." He glances up from his plate, daring to look at Christos once more. "What does that look like to you? If I was yours?"

"It wouldn't look very different," Christos answers after giving it a moment of thought. "But it would feel different. Secure, committed," he murmurs, no longer pinning Alfonso with his gaze. "Indulgent."

"So it has nothing to do with ownership or wanting me to be your boy?" Alfonso asks, wanting to make sure they're not only on the same page but in the very same paragraph.

"It has everything to do with ownership." Christos quirks a brow, bemused that they can misunderstand each other so completely. "If you were mine, then I could give you all of me, without worrying how it would be received."

"And what about you?" Alfonso returns, very aware Christos didn't answer the second part of his question. "Would you be mine too?" he challenges.

"Completely." It's easier to admit out loud than it would've been only moments ago. "I want you," he says, the words simple but fierce. "And I'm tired of roaming."

"How do you know it's me you want?" Alfonso asks, torn between logic and emotion and wanting to just say yes... but... "And not just someone? You barely know me."

"I feel something when I'm with you," Christos says, "that I don't feel with other people. A connection to you, something deeper. It makes me want more of you."

Alfonso's quiet again, his food completely forgotten. "Just the fact that I'm still sitting here instead of running away should tell you how much I like you," he says after a minute. "But the rest of it scares the hell out of me." He meets Christos's gaze again. "I'm not an impulsive person. I need some time to... absorb things, work them through, _not_ panic. Can you give me that?"

Christos sips at his beer, using the time to think. "Do you need me to go?"

"No." Alfonso shakes his head. "I'd rather you stay. Let me work through things with you here. While I'm visiting you too, if you still want me to come?"

"Yes." It's not what Christos was expecting, and his mouth quirks in a half smile. "I can do that."

Now Alfonso smiles again. A little shy, but pleased, happy. Christos's willingness to put up with his... quirks... telling him even more than his words. "Thank you."

"Sure." All right, it's not the worst that could've happened. And Christos should have known better than to say anything, but at least Alfonso is back to smiling at him and talking about visiting, and... He smothers his second-guessing in a swallow of beer.

They keep the conversation light for the rest of the meal, Alfonso back to laughing and just enjoying Christos's company. Recognizing that he could get used to this. If he lets himself.

Once they're back on the trail, it's easier for Christos to lose himself in the hike, the physicality of the moment. They're both starting to sweat a little and it smells good, a clean scent of exertion. And the scenery can't be beat. "Rho-do-den-dron Garden," he reads off a sign, slowly sounding out the first word. "I don't even know what that is. Want to check it out?"

"They're a type of flower," Alfonso explains, although he'd be hard-pressed to identify one. "I think they're fairly common in Canada."

"Let's go see them. Find out if they smell good," Christos says, taking Alfonso's hand. "And you can start thinking about what you want me to cook for dinner tonight."

Alfonso smiles at having their hands linked again, surprised to find how good and right this feels. He's never done this, never really acted like part of a couple, never dared even this intimacy with anyone. "Do you know any traditional Greek dishes?"

"Of course. Spanakopita, souvlaki... Have you ever eaten calamari?" Christos asks, curious just how exotic Alfonso's tastes run.

"I've had it fried and in Mexico, we make ceviche with it," Alfonso says. "My abuela used to make this really delicious stew too." He grins. "Make me something traditional. I will eat whatever you make."

"All right. Before we go back to your place we'll need to stop by a market for a few things. There's nothing you can't eat? Dairy is okay?" Christos swings their joined hands.

Alfonso glances at their hands and then smiles at Christos. "No, nothing I can't eat, although I don't like snails."

Christos laughs. "Nah, me either. It's settled: no snails."

///

"Are you sure there's nothing you want me to help with?" Alfonso asks again, pulling a stool up to the breakfast bar so he can watch Christos cook. They'd finished their tour of Stanley Park and hit the market on the way home, Christos choosing the ingredients he wanted for their dinner and Alfonso insisting on paying.

"Taste this," Christos says, setting a full glass of red wine on the counter in front of him. "And talk to me, there's so much I don't know about you." He turns back to the bubbling pots and pans on the stove, his smile winking. "Or sing to me."

"I'll sing to you once," Alfonso says, smiling back, holding up a finger to emphasize his point. "But that's it. One song." He disappears into the bedroom, bringing back his guitar.

"You play guitar, too?" Christos laughs softly, looking over his shoulder as he sautes onions. "I didn't even realize. I thought you were only a triple threat."

Alfonso thinks about that for a second. "What triple?"

"Singing, acting, dancing... Don't think I didn't seize the opportunity to watch some of your old music videos," Christos warns with a grin. "I like how you move your hips."

"Oh my god," Alfonso blushes hard and shakes his head. "You cyber-stalked me," he accuses, but he's trying hard not to laugh.

"I did. It wasn't that hard," Christos says, in the tone of an expert. He grins at Alfonso, enjoying his response. "I learned all about your ex-wife and two children, too," he deadpans. "Were you ever going to tell me?"

Alfonso laughs. "No, never," he says, a small smile curving his lips as he tunes the guitar and starts strumming the opening chords. "Here's your one song."

Christos listens, and stirs the onions. Then turns off the burner so he can shift his full attention to the lovely man gracing the kitchen. He truly is beautiful, sculpted and masculine with a touch of tenderness. Christos swallows hard against a feeling he's not ready to put a name to.

_Mi corazón, serias mi razón de vivir_  
No estas aquí  
No es mi intención hablar de una historia de amor  
Si no estas aquí  
Si no estas aquí 

Alfonso trails off softly, then glances up at Christos. Waiting for his reaction.

 _Fuck_. Alfonso is looking at him so expectantly. "That was beautiful," Christos says, his voice gruff, because he has to say _something_. Reaching out he threads his fingers through Alfonso's hair and leans in to kiss him deeply.

Alfonso moans into Christos's mouth, fumbling to set the guitar against the wall so he can wrap his arms around Christos's neck, let their tongues tangle, his body aching.

That sexy moan kicks up his hunger like nothing else. Christos nips sharply at Alfonso's throat. "How close to starving are you?"

Alfonso whimpers. "I can wait."

Christos's cock throbs, and he steps back. "Then bend over the counter," he orders, unbuckling his belt.

Alfonso follows suit, jeans dropped and kicked free of his feet before he braces himself against the counter. Aching with anticipation.

Slipping a discreet bottle of lube from his pocket, Christos drizzles some down Alfonso's crack. Smiles and slicks his fingers, then slips one inside.

Ay dios. Alfonso moans, head dropping between his shoulders, pressing back for more.

"You are so sexy," Christos whispers, working his finger in and out, twisting to catch Alfonso's prostate. "So hot the way you want me, how you open up for me."

Christos's finger pulls another moan from Alfonso, his face flushing hot with the words, the touch. "Fuck me," he whispers. "Please. Please fuck me."

There's no way Christos can resist that. Who the fuck could? He unrolls a rubber onto his cock and presses close, guiding himself inside. "Oh god yes."

It's a tight fit and it hurts, Alfonso having stupidly rushed Christos in his desperation, but he doesn't care. He pushes back, bearing down, body begging for what he needs.

Christos groans and begins to rock his hips, easing a fraction deeper with each thrust. Leaning down he tugs Alfonso's shirt up and licks along his spine.

Alfonso curses softly, lapsing into Spanish, his breath catching, rocking with Christos's thrusts. Melting under his mouth. "Por favor..."

God, Christos loves it when Alfonso speaks in his native language. He doesn't understand the words, but he can feel them wrap around and lick over him with tongues of fire, spurring his arousal. He bottoms out with a growl and draws back to the tip before driving deep.

Alfonso cries out, shifting a bit, his legs spread wider, his body open for every thrust. "Si, si, mas..."

It's so damn good. Alfonso's slick tight heat fits Christos like a glove. Christos pulls Alfonso's shirt off so he can get to his shoulder, licking and then sucking a bruise into his flesh.

"Yo me vengo," Alfonso warns, shoving back, unable to help himself, everything about Christos setting him on fire. "Oh, fuck, I'm going to come..." he tries again.

"Do it," Christos growls, rushing up to the edge. He bites Alfonso's neck and holds him down, fire coiling at the base of his spine.

That bite's the last piece, sliding into place and shoving Alfonso hard over the edge. He doesn't even try to hold back, doesn't care if his neighbours hear them. He comes with a loud cry, hot wet spurting against the cabinets, his hole clenching around Christos's cock.

His hips jerk and Christos growls again, spilling hot into the condom. He's stunned by Alfonso's responsiveness, how giving he is sexually when he's so closed off in other ways. "That's good," he whispers, super careful now with his words. "You feel so incredible."

"As do you," Alfonso says, head hanging low between his shoulders, his tongue darting out to wet dry lips. "Mm. I think I need to sit down."

Christos grins in lazy satisfaction. "Yes, sit down and eat. Dinner's nearly ready." He takes careful hold of the rubber and pulls out, quickly cleaning up and washing his hands.

Alfonso rights his clothes and sits for a second before disappearing into the washroom. All cleaned up and decidedly less lightheaded he takes a seat back at the table, watching Christos, thinking, once again, that he could get all too used to having the man in his kitchen, his home, his bed.

Pulling a pan of fish from the broiler, Christos drizzles a lemony olive oil sauce atop. Plates it up with a fresh chopped salad and sets it down in front of Alfonso before taking his own seat. "This is a great town for fish," he says. "I hate it when you're too far away from the water to get it fresh caught."

"Me too, not that I cook anything, but I enjoy it out," Alfonso says, the fish so tender it breaks apart easily under his fork. He takes a bite and moans his approval. "So good..."

Now Christos is downright smug. "I love feeding people," he murmurs, sipping at his wine. "I never get a chance to do it."

"You can feed me all you want," Alfonso says happily, making quick work, way too quick work probably, of his fish before he turns to his salad.

Christos laughs softly, scoring tracks in his fish with his fork. He's hungry, but unsettled, though for the life of him he can't figure out why. "Where should we go tomorrow?"

"I don't know," Alfonso admits, really wanting to suggest they do nothing and just spend the whole day at home in bed. But instead, he goes on, "What do you like? Animals, exploring neighbourhoods or the great outdoors?"

"The outdoors, definitely. But it's your time off, I don't want to do anything you wouldn't ordinarily think about doing," Christos says.

"I'm enjoying showing you around," Alfonso points out. "We could do the Capilano Suspension Bridge or go up Grouse Mountain."

"The bridge, that sounds interesting," Christos agrees, sitting back with his wine. "You're not afraid of heights, I take it. Is there anything that really scares you?"

"Like a phobia?" Alfonso clarifies, thinking. "Not really. You?"

"Small enclosed spaces," Christos reveals. "I do okay in elevators, so long as they keep moving the way they're supposed to. But..." He laughs shortly. "I guess I read too much horror fiction when I was young. I'm terrified of being buried alive."

Alfonso thinks about that for a second. "Aren't most people?"

"Are they? I always got the feeling I was the only one who thought about it," Christos chuckles. "Anyway, a suspension bridge sounds like the complete opposite."

"I think TV and movies make people think about it," Alfonso says, reaching for his wine. "But yes, the suspension bridge is completely open and in the middle of a forest over a river. It's beautiful and one of my favourite places." He smiles. "There's also a cliff walk and one of those treetop adventure things there too if you want to do that."

Christos watches Alfonso as he talks, basking in his lover's beauty. "What's a treetop adventure thing?"

"It's where they have all these things you can do in the trees, like zip lines and rope courses and swinging bridges, things like that," Alfonso explains. "You wear a harness and a helmet so if you fall off, you're not hurt."

"That sounds like a lot of fun," Christos says with a grin. "Then we can come back here and lick each other's bruises."

"Yes, please," Alfonso says, smiling back, fighting the urge to squirm at those words.


End file.
